


School Bells, Wishing Wells

by Little_miss_laughs_alot



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1600 word "drabble", By which I mean that a kid calls Steve a "mick", Except it's Steve and Bucky, First Meetings, Fluff, Gen, Kid Bucky Barnes, Kid Steve Rogers, Meet-Cute, One Shot, Period Typical Attitudes, Pre-Canon, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, So they met in the middle of a fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:06:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7431829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_miss_laughs_alot/pseuds/Little_miss_laughs_alot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“James Buchanan Barnes. Nice’ta meet you.” The blond scowled at him from underneath floppy bangs, but the other boy rolled his eyes and reached out to grab his hand to forcibly shake it. “See, now’s when you introduce yourself,” </p><p>“Steven Grant Rogers.” He tightened his grip and hesitated. “Call me Steve.”</p><p>“Alright Steve, call me Bucky!” A crooked grin erupted across his face and Steve narrowed his eyes. </p><p>“What kinda name is Bucky?”</p><p>---</p><p>The moment that changed the world forever</p>
            </blockquote>





	School Bells, Wishing Wells

**Author's Note:**

> This started as me trying to solidify my headcanons about their lives Pre-CATFA, but it kind of morphed and now I think I have a series of one-shots in the works... We'll see
> 
> Basically just a one-shot of how I picture Steve and Bucky meeting for the first time. Hope you like it!
> 
> Title from "Just a Memory" by Train

“Ouch! Damnit! The little shit bit me!” The older boy yelled in shock, then it morphed into anger. “That’s it, you damned Mick.” He lunged forward, but was intercepted by a blur of brown that tackled him from the side and punched him in the face.

“Pick on someone your own size, Coffman,” the brown haired boy growled from atop the older boy who was lying supine on the ground in shock. “Stay down.” Then he got up and moved to where the remaining two boys were continuing to beat up the smaller boy, who, though he was putting up a valiant fight, didn’t stand a chance until the brunet joined his fight. 

Together, the two of them put up enough of a fight to beat the older boys off, who retreated with threats and insults on their lips, scowling. With a final yell of defiance, the brunet turned to his skinny light-haired companion with a grin, only to be met with a glare and a punch to the jaw.

“The hell was that for, kid?” he asked, cradling his jaw and staring in concern as the blond wheezed angrily, thin chest heaving rapidly.

“I had ‘em... on the ropes! You didn’t have’ta get involved.”

“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to.” The brunet grinned, jaw forgotten. He stuck out his hand, “James Buchanan Barnes. Nice’ta meet you.” The blond scowled at him from underneath floppy bangs, but the other boy rolled his eyes and reached out to grab his hand to forcibly shake it. “See, now’s when you introduce yourself,” he stated firmly, gesturing the smaller boy to speak.

A beat of silence, then the blond gave in. “Steven Grant Rogers.” Then he tightened his grip and hesitated. “Call me Steve.”

“Alright Steve, call me Bucky!” A crooked grin erupted across his face and Steve narrowed his eyes. 

“What kinda name is Bucky?”

“Mine! So it’s the best kinda name!” Bucky released his hand and threw an arm around Steve’s skinny shoulders. Steve barely came up to his nose. “Now come on, kid, where d’you live?”

Steve tried to shrug out of Bucky’s grip to no avail, and he finally slumped, giving in. “Few streets over. And don’t call me kid. I’m almost seven, you ain’t much older than me.”

“That’s what you think- I’m almost eight!” Bucky said proudly. “Now lead the way!” 

Steve muttered something about not being able to lead the way when Bucky was keeping an arm around his shoulders and forcibly walking next to him, but started walking anyway, failing to repress a small smile.

The two boys walked through alleys and streets, Bucky filling the silence with chatter, grinning and gesturing grandly with his arms, Steve watching quietly, as though in shock that there was someone walking with him.

The two boys made a final turn, then Steve pointed to a shabby building.

“That’s where I live.”

“Well come on then!” Bucky grinned, and Steve stared in astonishment. 

“You want to come up?” he asked incredulously.

“Of course! I said I’d walk you home, didn’t I?” 

“No, you didn’t. You asked me where I live.” Steve stuck his chin out and crossed his skinny arms in a show of stubbornness, planting his heels into the cracked pavement.

“Well too bad kid, I’m walking you home, and that means all the way home.” They stood like that for a long moment, arms crossed, staring each other down, before Steve finally huffed.

“Alright, I s’pose you can come up. But don't call me kid.” Bucky grinned, and they walked around the back of the building and climbed the rickety wooden stairs overlooking an alleyway between two buildings filled with garbage and laced with washing lines above. 

They climbed two flights of stairs before an alarming wheezing noise began coming from Steve with each breath, but he continued regardless, grimacing, until he couldn’t go any farther.

“Jesus kid, are you alright?” Bucky asked in alarm as Steve slid to sit on the ground on the third floor, head in hands between knees, back against the wall.

“Just got... one more floor… to go.” Steve panted, voice raspy as his chest heaved. He coughed after a long moment, and continued coughing until he pounded his fist on his chest a few times and coughed up phlegm, spitting it over the edge of the landing and standing up casually, clearing his throat and taking a few deep, rattling breaths. “Come on.” He started up the next flight of stairs, but was stopped by Bucky’s hand on his wrist.

“What was that?” Bucky’s round face was laced with concern. “Did they hurt your lungs or somethin’?”

Steve shook his head. “Nah, I got bum lungs already. They didn’t do nothin’ to make them worse than they already are,” he stated matter-of-factly, and pulled on his wrist that Bucky was still gripping to make the other boy follow. Bucky did, slowly and staring at Steve with worry in his eyes. 

“You alright though?” he asked.

Steve shrugged his vaguely uneven shoulders. “I’m as good as I ever am. This is me.” he pointed to a door at the end of the landing. “You can go now.”

“Nope! I’m comin’ in! I said I’d see you home!”

“I am home!” Steve said in exasperation. “This is where I live!”

“No,” Bucky said clearly. “That’s where you live.” He pointed at the door that Steve had gestured at. Steve heaved an aggravated sigh.

“Fine then, come on.” Steve led the way to the door and kicked a brick on the floor, revealing a key hidden underneath. He grabbed the key from the ground and put it in the lock, opened the door, and replaced the lock and brick. “Happy now?” He turned to Bucky, who took the open door as an invitation to come in, much to Steve’s bemusement.

“Wow, you can see a lot more outta this window than you can outta mine!” Bucky’s faint voice called from inside. Steve remained outside of the open door for another moment, a look of pure confusion on his skinny face before he turned and moved into the apartment.

The apartment was a small and dim one, with three rooms. The room that Steve had just walked into was the middle room- a small kitchen, featuring an old stove with a heavy kettle and soup pot, a tap over a sink, and a tub serving as a table, covered by a wooden board with three chairs around it. The room was cluttered with washing waiting to be done. There was a closed door to the left that led to a bedroom, and an open doorway to the right with interior windows on either side of the opening that looked into a small sitting room.

Steve navigated himself through the apartment and through the open doorway, halting as he passed through the doorway, sticking close to the wall and watching Bucky warily. The boy in question had his hands and nose pressed against the grimy window, staring out. 

“I just live on the second floor! This is the fourth!” Bucky said excitedly, swinging his head around to look at Steve. “Ain't this neat?”

“I've lived here most’a my life,” Steve responded unsurely. “It's just an alley anyhow. It stinks somethin’ awful in the summer.”

“So does everythin’ else!” Bucky responded with a lopsided grin. “I betcha you stink in the summer too.”

Steve glared. “Betcha you stink worse.” 

“Nah, my kid sister stinks the worst,” Bucky snorted. “She's in diapers.” Seemingly against his will, Steve’s face split into a grin and he laughed. Bucky’s grin widened. 

“Steven? What's all this noise?” The sound of a door opening and closing was followed by a woman’s inquiring voice. A moment later, a freckled young woman with curly blonde hair tucked into a bun came into view. The sight of two boys rather than just one threw her for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “And who’s this?” she asked with her warm Irish lilt and her warmer smile. 

Bucky Barnes strode up to her, reached out a hand to shake hers, and made his best heart-stopping smile. “James Buchanan Barnes, ma’am. I'm Steve here’s new best friend!” 

Sarah Rogers stifled a laugh at the precocious boy and shook his hand back. “Pleased to meet you James Buchanan, I'm Mrs. Rogers.” 

Then she looked closer at the two boys and her smile faded. “Steven Grant Rogers, did you get into another fight?” she asked, crouching down to look at the bruises forming on her son’s face, as well as the cuts on his knuckles and cheek. Steve turned his gaze to the ground and stuck out his jaw. His shirt was slightly torn, his socks had fallen down, and his shoes were scuffed. Nothing entirely out of the ordinary for Sarah’s son. 

“Steven.” Her voice became more stern, and Steve pursed his lips. 

“Yes, Mama,” he mumbled.

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but her son cut her off in a rush. 

“Mama, ní gá scold dom i os comhair mo nua... chara.” Steve said, somewhat uncertainly. “Le do thoil?” He clasped her hand, looking at her earnestly.

Sarah sighed, and glanced over at Bucky, who had moved back to the window, but was casting curious glances back at them about as surreptitiously as a seven year old could manage. 

“Ceart go leor, mo chuisle. But don't think this means that you're not in trouble,” she added in English with a stern look before straightening up. 

“Are either of you seriously hurt?” she asked the two boys. 

“No, Mam, we’re fine.” Steve responded. She nodded. 

“Very well. James?” The other boy jerked his head up. 

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Would you care to stay for supper?” Bucky grinned. 

“Yes please, ma’am!”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if google translate failed me! 
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Mama, ní gá scold dom i os comhair mo nua... chara. Le do thoil? -- Mama, please don't scold me in front of my new… friend. Please?
> 
> Ceart go leor, mo chuisle. -- “Alright, my love”


End file.
